There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. . If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. “How did you find me?” She asked.
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